


Run Away

by james



Category: Leverage
Genre: Character Study, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-23
Updated: 2010-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot, between the end of season one and beginning of season two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run Away

Two days after their offices exploded and sent them scattering to their own corners of the globe, Eliot accepted a job that would take him off the continent entirely. He told himself it was a smart move, getting back into his usual line of work and away from anything that would link him to the rest of the team. Working would keep him busy, make it easier to tell himself that he was focused, determined, professional.

It let him pretend he wasn't running away from something he'd never thought he wanted. Once he'd lost it, Eliot told himself he didn't mind its absence.

Even when he was in the thick of a fight he couldn't find it in himself to believe it. It was the worst sort of failure and went against everything he'd ever believed in, every principle he'd had to guide himself -- work alone, trust no one, always watch your own back. All of that had been ripped aside when he hadn't even been looking. Or, if he had been looking, he hadn't realised how bad it had gotten until he stepped off the plane that first day in Jinnah International Airport and reflexively reached for his earpiece.

He'd already done his best to vanish, leaving only his dropbox and voicemail where potential clients could leave their information. He didn't think Hardison could track him after he'd spent a week completely off the grid moving from one country to the next until he'd landed in Karachi to take on a job. But the reflex to look over his shoulder for a partner didn't die, it just became easier to stifle as the days and fights wore on.

The job was a hard one, long and complex and meant every waking second had to be devoted to staying one step ahead of the game. It was the sort of job Eliot thrived on, keeping himself moving and alert, knowing that every face he saw was potentially a threat and so he never had to drop his guard. He knew he would crash hard when it was over, crawl into a hotel room someplace far away to recover his strength and let himself relax. But that was just another part of the work that kept him moving forward -- always forward, never looking back.

Or so he tried. He still caught himself listening for a voice in his ear from time to time. He threw himself harder into his work, wading into unnecessary situations so he could fight off his tension with a flurry of well-timed hits. The bruises and aches after helped distract him as well, until, five months after he'd first walked away, his focus finally shrank until it was the job and only the job, and the tightness in his chest finally faded.

When he listened to his voicemail and heard Sophie's voice, time and place and seat number, his breathing stopped. He nearly threw the phone across the room; his tiny, barren room with a dirt-sand floor and a heat index high enough to kill seemed to squeeze in on him as he listened to her voice. He heard the false cheer, and honest enthusiasm. He wondered what else her tone was hiding -- did she desperately want to see them, or was this just a hope to fill seats with people to applaud her?

In the end it didn't matter. Unable to tell himself why he was going, Eliot knew what he was getting in to when he got on a plane to Boston. Six months would not have turned her into a star with a miraculous ability to act. But his bags were in his hand and the sand was washed from his face and when he walked into the theater, program in hand, he realised what the trembling inside him was about.

When he turned and saw the others, he felt the instinct to run. But he knew himself well enough to know -- it was time to stop running, and accept the fact he'd finally come home.

And when he woke the next morning to a tangle of limbs, he knew it for certain.


End file.
